


Counting Bodies Like Sheep

by InkgooSupernova



Series: The Winter System [25]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1, Age Play, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Body Horror, Brainwashing, Breeding, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cannibalism, Coping, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Disturbing Themes, Drugs, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, Evil Alexander Pierce, F/M, Face-Fucking, Force-Feeding, Forced Orgasm, Graphic Description, HYDRA Trash Party, Happy Ending, Kid Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Necrophilia, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Sexual Age Play, Organs, Other, Physical Abuse, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restaurants, Reverse Blow Jobs, Self-Mutilation, Skull Fucking, Violence, Vomiting, Vore, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkgooSupernova/pseuds/InkgooSupernova
Summary: He had to get out of there. He had to find a way out of the ravine.If it wasn't for that fucking wall crushing his now useless arm.Useless....Or was it?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Alexander Pierce, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: The Winter System [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693231
Comments: 25
Kudos: 86





	1. Don't Fret Precious, I'm here

**Author's Note:**

> This story features graphic depictions of violence, cannibalism, necrophilia, dental horror, and body horror/modifications.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.
> 
> This story takes place before the main series.
> 
> All titles are from the song Pet/Counting Bodies Like Sheep by A Perfect Circle.
> 
> Alternate title: Five Times the Winter System Had Cannibalistic Tendencies (and One Time They Coped With It).

_"Bucky!" Steve cried out as the torn wall of the train finally gave way, sending one James Buchanan Barnes tumbling to his inevitable demise._

_Bucky screamed in pure, unadulterated horror as gravity pulled him down, down, down, towards the frozen revine below._

_Fate did not want to treat him kindly in his last few, fleeting moments of life on this mortal plane. His body managed to slam into a smaller cliff-side before tumbling further into the abyss._

_He found himself in unbearable pain, laying on the cold ice in the cavernous mouth of the ravine. He could only watch as the train's fuzzy silouhette disappeared from his sight, his last hope of any rescue._

_The last time he would ever see his beloved Steve before he was dragged into the fires of hell for his crimes._

That was four days ago.

The first day, he was convinced he was already dead, waiting in purgatory for his impending doom.

The second day, he could feel his aching, broken bones beginning to reset under his skin.

The third day, he felt as if his skin was on fire from the frigid cold surrounding him, seeping into his clothes and lapping at his skin.

The fourth day, he realized he was not dead.

He realized he would be soon enough.

He would have been able to move, to find a way back to civilization, to find a way back to his Steve.

If it wasn't for that fucking train wall that followed him down.

So there he laid, his left arm pinned just above the elbow underneath the crushing metal of the abandoned wall.

He was starving and in horrible pain. If he didn't move soon, the ice would surely kill him.

He didn't want to die. Not like this.

He was so _cold._

He was so _scared._

He was so _hungry._

He had to get out of there. He had to find a way out of the ravine.

If it wasn't for that fucking wall crushing his now useless arm.

_Useless._

...Or was it?

He laid for what felt like an eternity, debating his options within his frightened skull.

Either die here, or find a way to get away from the train wall crushing his arm.

He didn't want to die.

He stared at the crushed mass of flesh, the chain anchoring him to his doom.

He took a deep breath. Then another. Once more.

And chomped down into the near frozen flesh.

The searing pain tore through his body as he bit down harder, _harder,_ until the tough, struggling flesh gave way.

His cries echoed against the ravine walls.

He couldn't stop now. If he stopped, he would never be able to start again.

He swallowed down the tense, chilled flesh. He gagged at the heavy weight added into his empty belly.

He bit down again.

He bit down again.

He bit down again.

He could bite down no longer once the blinding white of bone began peaking through the torn, mangled, bleeding flesh.

He was no longer hungry, his belly was full of flesh and blood from the traitorous limb.

He felt so _tired._

He couldn't stop, he had to get away.

He twisted against the now mangled flesh.

He twisted again.

He twisted _again._

He screamed in agony as the bone finally collapsed against his abuse, cracking and splintering echoing the sounds of his freedom.

He gasped in pain, letting the tears of pain and relief track down his face as he allowed himself a moment of respite in the snow.

He could hear footsteps crunching in the snow.

He couldn't move. Not yet.

This was it.

This was the moment he would be dragged into the depths of oblivion.

"Sergeant Barnes." A voice, quiet, almost kind.

Doctor Armin Fucking Zola.

Hell was not fire and brimstone.

It was ice and blood.


	2. They Don't Care About You (Like I Do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't spit without being told! Bad dog!" The man barked, the Soldier recognized it as Russian.
> 
> The other man attempted to force the disgusting gauze back into his mouth.
> 
> He lunged in response, clamping his jaws tight into the man's throat.

The Soldier cried out in frustrated agony.

He was shoved into the cold, damp holding cell an eternity ago, stuck with disgusting, now rotting gauzes stuffed into his mouth, held shut by layer after layer of gauze wrapped around his head.

He couldn't shake the taste of rotting blood out of his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to spit the offending cloth out of his mouth.

Worse off, was the pain in his jaw.

The bones tucked just beneath the flesh and bandages felt as if they were on fire, aching with exuberant pain. He so desperately wanted to tear the flesh away and claw out the source of the pain manually.

He was startled by the sound of footsteps echoing through the halls. Two men stood in front of the cell door

He followed the men that lead him out of the cell, praying they would relieve the pain that tore at his nerves.

He silently, obediently sank into the surgical chair the men led him towards.

He behaved very well, letting the men unravel the gauze from around his face.

He spent no time forcing the bloody, rotten gauze from his mouth the moment the bandages were lifted from his mouth.

One of the men struck his face, a quick slap with the back of his gloved hand.

"You don't spit without being told! Bad dog!" The man barked, the Soldier recognized it as Russian.

The other man attempted to force the disgusting gauze back into his mouth.

He lunged in response, clamping his jaws tight into the man's throat.

The flesh tore far too easily beneath his bite, letting the choking body fall to the floor.

The Soldier let his tongue roll over the lump that filled his mouth, chewing on the fresh, coppery flesh. He groaned at the pressure against his teeth, soothing the ache in his jaw. He let the flesh fall out of his mouth, immediately regretting the decision as the ache in his facial bones returned.

_He needed to chew._

The other man lunged towards him, attempting to subdue him after the brutal attack.

He took great pleasure in the feeling of his teeth digging into the man's tender shoulder muscles, relishing in the pained scream that escaped the man.

He shook his head like a dog on a kill, tearing the flesh away from the man's writhing body. He spent a little longer chewing on the tense flesh to sooth his pain before spitting the flesh back out. He couldn't handle the bitter, coppery taste that flooded his mouth.

_He needed to chew again._

He let himself kneel to the floor, pinning the screaming man to the floor before biting down into his neck, letting his cuspids pierce the flesh beneath him again and again and _again._

He was startled into a frozen heap as the door to the room opened, listening as footsteps filled the room.

He waited for the inevitable punishment for his misbehavior.

Instead, he heard slow, rhythmic clapping.

"Such a good boy, learning so quickly." A man in a lab-coat with round glasses and a rather large forehead smiled.

The Soldier did not understand.

"Sir..." He whimpered, now biting into the fabric of the surgical chair to alleviate the ache that ate up all of his focus and attention.

That only caused the pain to burn brighter in his bones. The texture was all wrong, sending a shock of pain through his jaw and down his spine.

"Mein liebeling," The man cooed, placing a hand on the crown of his head, guiding him back to the now lifeless body on the floor. "You were already behaving so well. Don't you want to make the pain stop?"

How did this man know about the pain in his jaw?

Why did he _want_ him to chew on these men's flesh?

They were training him.

They were _programming_ him.

The pain in his bones grew more and more unbearable the longer he disobeyed the vague order of the man in the lab-coat.

He couldn't disobey. Not this time.

He shuttered as he dug his teeth into the body's arm, relishing in the relief of the pain withering into near nothingness as the man in the lab-coat stroked his fingers through his hair, letting his nails graze against his scalp like a master to his dog.

What a good, _obedient_ dog.


	3. Test Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What the fuck is wrong with you, stupid cun-" The guard didn't even have the time to fully turn around from picking up the stun baton before the Soldier was on him.
> 
> _Target._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the tags.

The Soldier was weary of the new guards posted outside of his cell.

One of the guards, a new addition of three weeks, seemed well enough. He stood by the door the way the old guards did.

The other guard, on the other hand, carried an air of arrogance. He had only been posted in front of his cell for a week, and had already managed to speak more than any other guard he could remember. It was as if he could never shut up.

It was seriously getting on his nerves.

He preferred his silence in his cell. It was his only area of quiet respite besides the cold sleep he was forced into when he was not deemed useful by his beloved Hydra.

Weapons do not have preferences.

All the same, when the second guard- who he had learned was named Agent Gomez- began speaking for the third time that evening (was it evening? He could never tell), he felt he had no other choice than to make him stop.

His cell had its usual accessories: the cold, damp cot he was currently sitting on, the drain in the middle of the concrete floor, and the bucket in the other corner of the cell that he was instructed to urinate and defecate into when necessary. The cell was almost exactly five foot by five foot, leaving him little room to lay comfortably. He often found himself curled up on the cot in a pitiful attempt to find comfort. He didn't even have clothes to keep away the cold, leaving him completely naked on the cold, damp, uncomfortable slab of crumbling foam.

Weapons do not need comfort.

He decided to grab the bucket- which was empty, unfortunately- and chuck it against the bars of the cell door. The loud **clank** of metal on reinforced metal bars grabbed the guards attention.

"Shut up!" The Soldier barked once he had their attention. He was trying to gather what little peace he could while awaiting his next mission, and these lowly guards were preventing him from doing so, which would result in poor mission efficiency, which would result in his punishment and their dismissal.

"Wanna say that again?!" Agent Gomez glared at him, puffing up his chest like an unruly peacock, attempting to intimidate the Winter Soldier.

"Shut. Up." He reiterated, enunciating his words to drive the point home.

"Wow, a real pair on you, huh?" Agent Gomez laughed, gesturing to the weapon in the cell as if the guard next to him was a long-time friend.

"Leave him alone. Don't fuck with the Asset." The other guard was much smarter, knowing his place in the pecking order: guards were the least authoritative and most expendable. The Soldier had full right to dismiss any guard that stepped out of line, as ordered by his Master.

_They were beneath him._

"No, here, here big guy. C'mere." Agent Gomez cooed to him, like an obedient dog. The Soldier sneered at him, keeping to his spot on the cot.

"Hey, I said get'cher ass over here." Agent Gomez pulled the stun baton from his belt holster and shoved his arm through the door, easily jabbing him in the side due to the confined space.

The Soldier yelped in pain, immediately catching the baton in his metal hand's crushing grasp. He yanked the offending device out of the guard's hand, tossing it to the far corner where the bucket used to be.

"You fuckin' kidding me?!" Agent Gomez barked, holding open both arms like a petulant child.

"Gomez. Leave him alone." The smart guard growled, attempting to stop the other guard from making the worst mistake of his life, let alone his career.

"No, I think this fucker needs to be taught a lesson in authority." Agent Gomez boasted, reaching for the key card on his belt.

"Are you fucking stupid? You're gonna get us both killed. Just drop it." The smart guard tried to pull him back, but was met with a swift punch to the gut. Good to know that the smart guard can't take a punch.

With that, Agent Gomez pushed open the cell door, stepping inside to the waiting jaws of death.

The Soldier was not stupid.

The Soldier was a master tactician on top of his countless other useful traits.

He was the fist of Hydra for a reason.

He easily kicked the door shut, locking the both of them in the confined space.

_Locking the guard in with him._

"What the fuck is wrong with you, stupid cun-" The guard didn't even have the time to fully turn around from picking up the stun baton before the Soldier was on him.

_Target._

The Soldier snarled, deep in his chest, as he dug his teeth into the target's shoulder, causing his arm to fail and release the baton.

With a quick slash of his metal arm, the target's legs collapsed beneath him, heavily bleeding beneath his tactical gear. The target's annoying, shrieking wails echoed through the hall, only adding to the Soldier's pent up frustration.

" **Shut up!** " The Soldier roared, gripping the screaming body's head before smashing his face into the concrete floor beneath them. " **Shut _up!_** "

Yet the idiotic, panicking body did not stop. He couldn't take it anymore.

He forced four metal digits into the wide open, wailing hole, before yanking the body's lower jaw from it's skull with a wet _crack._

The screams finally evolved into gurgling gasps as he tossed the useless chunk of flesh and teeth to the other side of the cell.

The body still had some fight left in it, attempting to strike him across the face with a loose fist. Being slapped with an overcooked spaghetti noodle would have been more effective than the pitiful excuse of a punch.

That only served in enraging the Soldier even more.

_He would not let this idiot's death be quick._

The Soldier made quick work of the body's tactical gear, easily tearing away the fabric that was meant to protect it. The only defense between the body's internal organs and the Soldier's weaponized maw.

Once a decent portion of the clothing had been removed, the Soldier wasted no time digging his teeth into the hairy belly of the body beneath him.

The gurgling gasps grew in volume and frenzied panic as the body attempted to struggle away, to no avail.

He relished in the pressure against the plates in his jaw. Hydra had gifted him the comfort of removing the searing pain in his jaw once he had learned that to use his weaponized implants was _good._ They _wanted_ him to use his weapons with the highest efficiency. Now, the pressure of biting into tense, tender flesh brought nothing but sheer, unadulterated _pleasure._

He wanted _more._

_Hydra made him want more._

The Soldier growled, ripping the flesh away from the body, revealing a glistening mass of twitching, throbbing organs and muscles. He shuttered at the sight, shoving his flesh hand into the gaping wound and easily tearing away the adjacent flesh, revealing even more organs hidden beneath.

The body managed out a pitiful squeal of a scream, only encouraging the Soldier's empty-skulled ravaging of the soon-to-be-corpse.

He wasted no time digging his face into the mess of bloody, writhing organs beneath him, catching a throbbing organ in the vice grip of his jaws. He shook his head violently, tearing the organ from it's overcrowded flesh prison with a wet _rip._ He didn't bother to identify what the organ in his mouth before crushing it between his teeth, shivering at the moist, squishy _crunch_ as he tore through the tense tissue. Once satisfied with the organ's new, pulpy texture, he gulped the tissue down.

The body's eyes were wide, burning holes into his soul.

He didn't like that.

The Soldier pressed the body's head to the floor, pinning him down by the neck with his metal hand. He carefully pressed the tips of his flesh fingers into the body's eyelids, and with a press and a twist, was able to pluck out his left eyeball like a ripe peach off a tree.

He wasted no time popping the offending organ into his mouth, wincing slightly at the salter taste and slicker texture.

It made no difference as he crushed the organ between his molars, groaning as the bitter inner eyeball fluid flooded his mouth.

He took great pleasure in watching the remaining eye stare at him in horror as he gulped the pulpy remains down his gullet.

The missing eyeball sure left a pretty sight on the body's face. A wide, bleeding, gaping hole where the offensive organ once laid, nestled and secured.

He felt his cock, hanging heavy between his legs, twitch in interest.

He hadn't realized how hard he had gotten from all the excitement.

That wet, glistening hole sure looked pretty.

Weapons did not have preferences.

But Hydra encouraged him to use every available piece of him as a weapon.

So he saw no harm in it.

The Soldier crawled closer to the body's mangled head, situating the struggling body's cranium between his knees as he straddled the body's neck.

"Shhhh." He cooed, attempting to quell the whining gurgles that continued to escape the body's gaping wound of a pharynx. He took his erection into his flesh hand, using the other to keep the head still as he ran the tip of his cock through the oozing blood of the body's ruined face.

Once he deemed himself lubricated enough, he pressed the head of his cock into the waiting socket.

He couldn't help the full body tremble as the hot, wet, tight bone of the socket engulfed his sensitive organ. He sighed as he pressed deeper, _deeper_ into the hole, stopping only when he felt the tip of his cock press against the wet wall of the body's skull. He only managed to fit the head of his cock in, but that was good enough.

By that point, the annoying gurgles had finally ceased, leaving only the wet, sloppy _squelch_ of the Soldier fucking into the tight socket to echo through the halls.

After about five minutes of this, he grew bored of teasing the head of his cock in the socket.

_He needed more._

He slipped his tip out from the socket, sighing in disappointment at the sight of the no longer writhing or struggling body.

At least the incessant gurgling had stopped.

He looked over the gaping trough of organs and flesh, then back to the ruined skull.

He had a brilliant idea.

He grasped the half torn neck of the body beneath him, and with a few struggling tugs managed to yank the head and neck from the torso. He flipped the head over, looking into the now freely bleeding neck to inspect the wound. He pressed three fingers into the tense, tight hole of the now raw larynx, watching in a trance-like enthrallment as the flesh gave way to his invasion.

He could feel saliva pooling beneath his tongue.

_He was drooling._

Hydra programmed him to perform.

_He could not disobey._

With a few quick adjustments to the ruined throat, he situated the head between his legs, pressing his erection into the sloppy, wet hole of the ruined throat. He watched with a sickening mix of horror and glee as the head of his cock poked out from the hole where the body's jaw once laid, pressing up against the bloody roof of the head's mouth.

He pinned the skull to the concrete floor, fucking into the tight, wet hole with wild, reckless abandon. He couldn't help the way his body _craved_ the feeling of blood and flesh. He yelped out an agonized snarl as his body spilled over, trembling hard as he drained his balls into the hot, wet, raw flesh and blood wrapped tight around his throbbing cock. He stared lifelessly as the last few spurts of thick cum dripped to the bloody floor beneath him.

In a moment of horrifying, lucid clarity, he realized what he had done. What he was _doing_.

He yanked the now ruined skull away from his still painfully hard member, throwing it to the other side of the room like he was just tossed a live grenade. He couldn't help the terrified shrieks that left his chest, followed by the wet retches as he puked up the half-digested organs into a rancid pile of sour stomach acid and flesh on the concrete floor. His throat was burning and his skin was crawling.

_He was a monster._

However, with another glance to the red, glistening organs before him, the programming that Hydra screwed so deep into his brain took hold once again.

He didn't _want_ the craving feeling that wracked his body. He didn't _want_ the painful groan in his stomach at the sight of the organs like they were the finest delicacy. He didn't _want_ to violate this corpse in the most ungodly ways possible.

Weapons do not _want_.

He blacked out as he shoved his face back into the waiting display of organs and flesh, biting into the tender flesh beneath him.

The Solder came to once again when he was blinded by a flash of light. He found himself surrounded by human viscera, the body before him no longer resembling that of a human, with the body's now removed arm clutched tight between his teeth. He had already chewed most of the flesh away and was mostly gnawing on the bone to ease the slight ache in his jaw from his previous meal.

His stomach felt so _full,_ more than he could ever remember feeling in his entire life. He groaned as he laid back against the blood soaked floor, sighing in content as he stroked his soaked flesh hand over his slightly extended belly.

"We're gonna need to call Pierce..." A voice mumbled. It sounded like the Commander. The Soldier could not possibly care less, far too caught up in his foggy, pleasure filled haze.

He hated how Hydra made him love this.

He never wanted this.

Weapons do not want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the event referenced in [Let the Monster Rise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048160).
> 
> This can also be referred to as 'The Gomez Incident', which was originally conceived as a role-play idea between us and an old friend of ours, which never came to fruition until now.


	4. Keep Your Head Down, Go to Sleep to the Rhythm of the War Drums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But when he tried to bite the food with the sharp teeth again, he missed and ended up chomping down on the inside of his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by Lauralot's [The Knowing Makes It Worse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709594?view_adult=true) and Feanor_in_leather_pants' [Arts and Crafts Hour with the Hydra Tentacle Monsters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396456/chapters/5297102)
> 
> This chapter features graphic depictions of rape/non-con, blood, physical abuse, and trauma-based dissociation.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.

He whimpered as he held his now pained cheek in the palm of his flesh hand.

"Oh, sweetheart, let me see."  
Daddy cooed, pulling his hand away from his face.

He was with Daddy in one of his vacation houses, and Daddy let him have a small piece of his steak dinner as a treat. He really liked how it tasted and the way it made his mouth feel kind of funny when he bit the piece of meat with the sharp teeth.

But when he tried to bite the food with the sharp teeth again, he missed and ended up chomping down on the inside of his cheek.

He opened his mouth wide, trying to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth, the way the taste made his body feel all tingly and funny. He felt Daddy's fingers press his tongue down as he looked into his mouth. Daddy clucked his tongue while shaking his head.

"Tsk tsk tsk, you really need to be more careful with these, sweetheart." Daddy chided, gently grazing one of the sharp teeth with the pad of his thumb. "They are weapons, not toys. You should know better than that."

"'m sorry..." He whimpered, closing his mouth once Daddy pulled his fingers away.

"I think I have an idea, the perfect way to teach you how to behave properly with your teeth." Daddy smiled, standing up from the table. He instinctively stood with him, following him as he put his plate in the sink. "You have to learn that they are not toys to be played with. You could easily hurt someone with them, such a clumsy little boy."

He didn't like the way his tummy felt at the words. He could feel a ball of cold dread drop into his guts like an icecube in water. He could already feel himself starting to slowly float away from his body, like he was standing right next to himself.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Daddy lead him through the house, all the way to the bedroom, and he immediately knew his bad tummy feeling was correct. He swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat as Daddy opened the door, leading him inside.

He really didn't want to add 'being manipulative' to his punishment list tonight. He had already been so bad for using the Soldier's weapons like a toy.

But this wasn't a punishment, Daddy was just going to teach him how to be good while showing him he loved him. Right?

Then why did his tummy still hurt so bad?

Daddy sat down on the edge of the bed with a soft groan. Daddy was older than he remembered, which made him feel a little sad, but he shook the thought from his head.

"Here, sit down here, doll. On your knees, and keep your hands on your legs." Daddy pointed to the space between his now wide open legs, leaving a spot on the hardwood floor with just enough space for him to fit between.

He nodded, situating himself on the floor, his shoulders between Daddy's knees and his head at level with Daddy's crotch.

He really wished that bad feeling in his tummy would go away.

"There you go, such a good boy." Daddy hummed, petting the top of his head like a puppy dog. "I'm the one who has to teach you how to behave like a good boy, aren't I?"

"Thank'y'u, Daddy." He chirped as clearly as his aching tummy would let him. He tried to bite back the yelp in his throat as he watched Daddy's hand reach for the front of his pants, pulling the zipper down and fishing his half-hard member out.

He really, _really_ wished that bad feeling in his tummy would go away.

"You need to learn that those are not toys for little boys to play with." Daddy began, stroking himself to full hardness. "If I feel even the _tiniest_ cut from those weapons on me, you're going to be in _big_ trouble. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy." He nodded, looking Daddy in the eye. He _hated_ looking people in the eye, the way it sent a painful shock down his spine, but he knew he would be punished if he didn't.

"Good boy, here." Daddy held his member up, keeping the tip at level with his mouth. "Remember, no hands. Keep them on your legs."

He nodded. With a stifled whimper, he opened his mouth wide and took Daddy's tip into his mouth.

"I better not feel any teeth, doll." Daddy's voice was threatening, sending a shiver down his spine.

He breathed through his nose as he held his mouth as wide as he possibly could, keeping his lips wrapped tight around the invading organ and trying his best to hollow out his cheeks. He could feel Daddy's hand rest on the back of his head, pushing him down to take more, more, _more._

He stifled a gag as he felt Daddy's tip press against the back of his throat. Daddy only pressed harder, earning a startled, sputtering gag as his nose was pressed into Daddy's pants.

He didn't mean to clench his jaw. He really didn't.

_It was an accident._

Daddy gripped his long hair and yanked his head out of his lap with an angry yelp, examining the damage the ungrateful little brat had done.

There was the tiniest sliver of a cut on the left side of his member, just above the base. He had gotten paper cuts with more blood than that when coloring on the floor.

That didn't stop his from yelping when the back of Daddy's hand struck him across the cheek.

"Such a bad boy, such a little _brat._ Couldn't do the _one thing_ asked of him." Daddy was awfully angry, stuffing himself back into his pants as he stood up, unbuckling the belt around his waist.

"'m sorry 'm _sorry_ I di'n' mean it Daddy I _promise_!" He couldn't help the frightened tears that burned in his eyes, trying desperately to blink them away in order to avoid an even _worse_ punishment.

"What an ungrateful brat. What is lying, little boy?" Daddy grabbed his hair on the back of his head, pulling him up onto the bed until he was bent over the mattress. He yelped as he felt Daddy's hands yank at his waistband, ripping the only protection he had away from him.

"A-a mani'plation." He whimpered, tucking his head into the covers of the bed, praying that Daddy wouldn't notice the way his quiet, stifled sobs made his shoulders shake.

"And what is _crying_ , little brat?" Daddy noticed.

"'m sorry-" His pathetic apology was cut short by the loud, painful _crack_ of the belt against his backside.

" _What is **crying?**_ " Daddy asked again, much angrier this time, as he struck the belt against his sensitive bottom once again.

"A-a mani'plation! Daddy!" He yelped, trying to bite down against the tears that refused to stop making him so _awful_.

"What an awful little _brat_. Hurting his Daddy when he was just trying to teach him how to be _good_." Daddy growled, striking him bottom with the merciless, unforgiving leather belt again and again and _again_ and _**again.**_ "Trying to make his Daddy feel bad for _loving_ him."

He tried to stop the tears. He really, _really_ did.

But his cheek got caught between the sharp teeth again and he just couldn't _help_ himself.

With each stifled sob, the belt came down harder, faster. The awful words followed suit.

"Such an awful, naughty little brat. Can't even _try_ to appreciate everything his Daddy does for him. What do you have to say for yourself, little brat?" Daddy barked, never faltering in the unrelenting strikes of the belt against his bottom.

"'m-m _Sorry!_ I-I _love_ m' Daddy! I-I won' b' bad again I _promise!_ " He yelped, his tears finally dried as he felt the skin on his bottom break open and begin to bleed, as if his tears were redirected to the now burning flesh of him rump.

"What a _terrible_ little boy. Lying through his teeth. The teeth that Hydra _gifted_ him. Why do you want to hurt your Daddy so much, you awful child?" Daddy growled, purposefully striking the belt over a particularly painful patch of broken skin.

He wailed, biting down against his metal arm to try and stop the manipulative cries. That only resulted in an awful, _burning_ ache in his jaw that only complemented the pain of the belt.

" _What do you have to say for yourself, little brat?_ " Daddy began again, expecting the truth out of him this time.

"I-I'm an a- _awful_ little brat, Daddy. I-I hurt y'u an' I was bein' m-mani'plativ' a-an' tryin' t' make y'u feel _bad_ , Daddy. 'm _sorry!_ " He managed to yelp out, praying he got the answer right this time.

After a few more, unbearably painful strikes of the belt, Daddy finally stopped.

His tummy twisted painfully as he heard Daddy's zipper being pulled open again.

"Are you going to keep being manipulative, little boy?" Daddy huffed. He could feel Daddy's hand rubbing against the bleeding, angry patches of skin. He could hear Daddy rubbing his member with the slick blood.

He instinctually braced himself.

"No, Daddy." He breathed out, focusing on the wall in front of him.

He ground his teeth together as he felt Daddy's tip press into him. He couldn't scream.

Screaming was a manipulation.

He breathed through his pain as he felt Daddy's member press deeper and deeper into his tight, now definitely bleeding hole. He felt as if he was being torn apart, like Daddy would completely impale him and choke him to death if he went any deeper.

"That's better, such a good boy, I'm sure you feel so silly for behaving so terribly~" Daddy hummed as he rolled his hips into him.

He couldn't feel anything.

He watched the wall in front of him as Daddy pushed and pulled inside of him, making his body bounce against the mattress with each thrust. He breathed through his pain as he felt the bruised, torn skin press against Daddy's khaki pants.

He couldn't feel the pain anymore, watching himself being used from the pillows next to him.

He prayed that Daddy took the whimpers and gasps that escaped him as pleasure sounds. He didn't want to see this little boy get punished even more.

No matter how much he deserved it.

Daddy groaned behind him, and he could feel the sudden warmth spilling into him. He whined out as his own body trembled, spilling over onto the covers beneath him. He didn't mean to! Honest! He just couldn't help it when Daddy kept hitting a little button inside of him that made him feel all tingly and funny. That mixed with his own, painfully stiff private parts caught between his belly and the bed covers. It was almost enough to make him forget the awful, twisting ache in his tummy or the unbearable sting of his torn skin.

He heard Daddy cluck his tongue in disappointment. He tucked his head into the covers.

"Look at the awful mess you made. Go sit in the corner while I clean up your misbehavior." Daddy huffed, pulling himself out of his body and tucking himself back into his pants, which now had specks of blood and spilt over love all over the lap.

He pulled up his pants the best he could, knowing he would get in more trouble if he made a mess on the floor, and waddled his way to the far corner of the room. He hissed quietly at the painful, awfully uncomfortable wet pressure against his bottom as he plopped himself down onto the hardwood floor.

He felt like he was watching himself from the bed, staring at the back of his own head while Daddy made a big show of changing his pants and taking off the now ruined bed covers.

He felt like he was just a little teddy bear, sitting helpless on the bed and watching the aftermath of calamity, innocent of the crimes committed within those walls.

It felt like an eternity before Daddy walked back over to him, putting a hand on his head to get his attention.

He was still just a little teddy bear, watching from his spot on the bed as the boy in the corner was lectured by Daddy. Reminding the boy how to be good and behave and _obey_ , just like a teddy bear.

Teddy bears can't be bad, they only sit politely and obey as people play with them. Teddy bears never cry or lie or try to manipulate people into feeling bad for them. Teddy bears don't make messes or misbehave.

Teddy bears are always good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This accidentally became Winnie's origin story.


	5. The Boogeyman's Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier listened as the men's heavy boot steps echoes through the walls, masking his own, barefoot, padded steps on the cold concrete floor. He was being lead on a leash-like pole, as if he would attempt to run.
> 
> Or worse, as if he would attack one of the men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the tags.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.

The men were leading him somewhere.

These halls were cold, dark, unfamiliar, and far too long.

He did not understand the point of this mission.

The Soldier listened as the men's heavy boot steps echoes through the walls, masking his own, barefoot, padded steps on the cold concrete floor. He was being lead on a leash-like pole, as if he would attempt to run.

Or worse, as if he would attack one of the men.

He could hear muffled, shrill screams coming from behind the door they were currently passing, before being lead into a bright, sterile room. He was instructed to lay on the metal slab in the middle of the room, which he willingly obeyed.

He would regret that.

His arms and legs were bound to the slab the moment he laid down, instilling a deep, echoing panic in his chest as a man in a lab coat approached him with a syringe. He attempted to struggle, to bite the man, to keep the syringe full of _who knows what_ away from him.

It was all in vain however, as the pinch of the needle piercing through the thin skin of his flesh arm rang through his body.

After that, he was left alone.

The Soldier stared up at the white ceiling of the room, waiting for his breathing to return to normal as the panic left his body.

What was the point of that?

It felt like only a few seconds before the men in tactical gear returned, unshackling his now heavy limbs from the slab.

The room was spinning, his skin felt tingly and warm and almost uncomfortable.

Those were drugs.

Why did they drug him? What could they be doing that would require him to be _more_ complacent?

He was dragged along by the poles, stumbling over his barely useful legs as the men pulled him towards the room with the muffled screams.

Inside of the room was dark and empty, save for a large mirror on one wall, a rectangular shaped object in the middle of the room, and four other men in lab coats surrounding the rectangular object. Strapped to the object was a naked, female human- brunette, slightly tanned Caucasian skin, mid twenties- pressed with her back on the object and legs lifted high into the air with medical stirrups.

His skin prickled at the sight, suddenly all too aware of what this mission was for.

He couldn't help the way his saliva pooled under his tongue, the way he bristled as the drugs flowed through his veins.

The Soldier was lead towards the mount, wincing at the sound of the females high-pitched screams. He could tell that she was screaming in English, but his foggy, drugged up mind could not comprehend the words.

The men pushed him down, forcing his body to blanket the female's, his hips securely slotted between her open legs.

He groaned as he felt one of the men grab his warm, painfully stiff erection from between the two bodies. He hadn't even realized he had gotten aroused, his entire body feeling the same warm, sparking, dizzying feeling to the point where he couldn't tell where one part of him began and the other ended.

The Soldier hissed, loud and unabashed, as he felt the tip of his cock press into the warm, tight hole beneath him.

He groaned as his hips chased the searing, tingly sensation on their own accord, pressing deeper and deeper into the now _wailing_ body beneath him.

The screams he could very much do without.

He snarled as his hips bucked into the body, thrusting in an arrhythmic, rapid, erratic pace to the point where he couldn't even tell if _he_ was the one fucking into the body or not. He glared at the chest beneath him, rising and falling and trembling with panicked screams.

He was tired of the screaming.

" _Shu'd up!_ " The Soldier barked, slurred and nearly incomprehensible, before sinking his teeth into the fleshy, fatty skin of one of the breast beneath him. He easily tore into the now blood-soaked flesh, tearing the tissue away and tossing it to the side like an emptied gun clip.

That only resulted in louder, more panicked screaming.

" _SAID SHUT **UP!**_ " He roared, digging the sharpened tips of his metal fingers into the weeping flesh and tearing away at the muscle tissue like sand, groaning at the sound of flesh tearing from bone and ligaments and cartilage. He stared with almost child-like wonder at the sight beneath him.

A rapidly beating heart nestled between two rapidly inflating-deflating lungs, all trapped beneath a pink and white marbled rib cage and crowded above a mess of pink, squishy organs that throbbed and twitched with adrenaline. He groaned as he used his metal hand to force more of the encasing flesh away from the body to reveal the winding, writhing mess of intestines lying just below the caged vital organs.

He snarled deep in his chest as he dug his flesh hand into the mess of twisting, throbbing, _squirming_ organs beneath him, shuttering at the feeling of the body's warm vaginal walls tightening and fluttering around his oversensitive cock. He shoved the writhing, eel-like intestines out of the abdominal cavity of the panicking body below him, staring into the much more open cavity. He could just _barely_ make out the shape of the body's vaginal canal, nestled securely in the cage of the pelvic bones.

He wanted to get a closer look.

The Soldier wrapped his flesh hand around the round, pink organ that obstructed his view, twisting and pulling until the organ was torn from its connective tissue. He sighed in relief as the body _finally_ stopped screaming, falling still beneath him. The organs continued to throb in the cavity beneath him. He stared up at the head of the body, which was currently leaned back and staring blank towards the ceiling.

The body must have finally succumbed to shock.

He let his eyes roam the destroyed body, unaware that his own body was still chasing its own pleasure within the still squirming organs. His eyes finally rested on the sight of his own cock, wrapped tight in the now ruined flesh of the body, soaked in blood and natural lubrication.

He couldn't help the full body shutter that ripped through him as he drained his balls into the now empty, bloodied cavity.

He collapsed onto the mess of flesh and organs beneath him, panting as the adrenaline finally began to dissipate in his drugged body, quickly replaced with oxytocin and serotonin that fogged up his brain more than the drugs ever could.

"Well that was a fucking waste." One of the men in a lab coat growled, agitated, as he clicked the pen in his hand.

"Should've thought of that..." Another man in a lab coat sighed.

The Soldier couldn't care less if he was offered his freedom in exchange of caring less, mindlessly chewing on one organ that he had torn out during his drug and hormone fueled attack. He felt the men in tactical gear pull on the pole-leashes, leading him away from his prized body. He clung to the corpse, managing to tear away a chunk of flesh that he quickly shoved into his mouth before the men could take it away from him.

He was lead into a shower room, shoved under the cold water, and lead back to his holding cell. Once there, he was shoved into the cold, damp room, where he found himself curled up on the cold cot.

He preferred the warm blood and flesh over the cold water and concrete.

Weapons do not have preferences.


	6. Go Back To Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't until Uncle Sam pointed out the steak options that his tummy started growling, suddenly reminded of the way tender, bloody flesh made the ache in their jaw feel so much better.
> 
> He immediately clammed up the moment his growling stomach became audible to the others at the table.

Daddy was tense.

Jamesy immediately felt extremely self conscious.

Daddy and Uncle Sam decided it would be a good day to brave the outside world and go to a restaurant for dinner. Jamesy had an awful feeling in his tummy that their plan would end bad, but he didn't want Daddy or Uncle Sam to be disappointed in him, so he went along anyways.

The three of them decided on a nice sit down restaurant, nothing too fancy, but not as casual as he would like either. He wasn't even able to get a kids menu, so he had to rely on Daddy and Uncle Sam to tell him what the food options were.

He felt really, _really_ out of place.

It wasn't until Uncle Sam pointed out the steak options that his tummy started growling, suddenly reminded of the way tender, bloody flesh made the ache in their jaw feel so much better.

He immediately clammed up the moment his growling stomach became audible to the others at the table.

"You want steak? You can-"

"No." He shouldn't have cut off Uncle Sam like that, but he was already reminded of the ways old Daddy would feed him steak and the way their mouth would fill up with saliva every time the Soldier saw _bloody human corpses._

"Hey, it's okay. If you-"

" _No._ " Jamesy _really_ shouldn't have cut him off a second time. He was starting to cause a scene. There was no way he _wouldn't_ be punished when they got back to the tower for how bad he was misbehaving already.

Daddy looked pale.

Jamesy felt _awful._

"Alright, well, there's also..." Uncle Sam continued to name off other foods, but he couldn't make himself listen anymore. He was far too focused on the thought of tender flesh, the way the tissue tore underneath their razor sharp teeth, the way the texture and pressure sent a shock wave through their body that felt so _good_.

It made his tummy feel sick just _thinking_ about it.

Then a waiter walked past their table, a plate of warm, sizzling, steaming sirloin in hand. The scent of smoked, seasoned flesh filled the air.

He tucked his head as his tummy growled its approval.

Stupid, traitorous organ.

"Jamesy, if you-"

"'m not hungry." He really, _really_ shouldn't have cut off Daddy. He just felt so _terrible_ remembering the ways they made their jaw feel better.

The way Hydra _made_ their jaw feel better.

He couldn't even muster up the feeling of sickness, his stomach overriding all other senses other than _hunger._

The table was silent for a moment.

Then another.

Then _another._

"Hey, Jamesy, do you think you could come with me to the bathroom for a minute?" Uncle Sam asked, already moving his napkin from his lap. "You aren't in trouble, I just wanna talk with you in private for a moment, okay?"

Jamesy hunched in his shoulders, already terrified of the prospect of being punished _in the fancy restaurant where everyone could see and hear him._ But Uncle Sam said he wasn't in trouble, so he had to try and trust him.

He would make everything feel better.

"...'kay." Jamesy mumbled, following him as he stood from his seat. He kept his head tucked down as he followed behind. He must have looked ridiculous, following the other man who was an inch shorter than their body like a lost, kicked puppy.

Uncle Sam checked to make sure that no one else was in the bathroom, before leading him inside.

"Hey, I know you feel bad about wanting to eat meat," Uncle Sam began, "But I don't want you to lie about being hungry to try and make yourself feel better."

"'m sorry..." Jamesy mumbled, tucking his head down impossibly further, waiting for the strike across his face that was sure to come.

"It's okay, you aren't in trouble, I just want you to be healthy and happy." Uncle Sam offered his hand, which he gladly took into his own flesh hand. "Do you remember what your therapists told you?"

"Tha'..." Jamesy had to think for a moment. "Tha' us bein' comfy eatin' normal meat 's better an' healthier than tryin' t' shove th' bad feelin's away. Tha' 's more healthy t' ha'ffa copin' me-memechamism t' replace th' bad feelin's inst'ed of jus' ignorin' them an' hopin' they go away." He finally managed out.

"Good job!" Uncle Sam smiled, which made Jamesy smile back. "If you're having those kinds of feelings, it's important to use the coping mechanism you have instead of trying to shove the feelings away. If you do that, you'll just end up hurting yourself more."

Jamesy pondered the other's words, rolling them around in his head for a bit. The Soldier already knew the different ways he could cope with their bad feelings, he even asked Mr. Stark to make special punching bags with special fabric that helped his jaw feel the same way it felt when he bit into flesh.

The first time Daddy saw that, however, he was really mad and yelled at the Soldier for being bad. Uncle Sam held him a lot after that and told him that Daddy was just scared and didn't understand, that he was doing good for taking his feelings out on what he was supposed to instead of himself or other people. Daddy never got mad at the Soldier for destroying punching bags or chewing on the meats they bought from the store after that, instead calling him a good boy and telling him how proud he was. That made all of them feel a _lot_ better.

Coping mechanisms were about finding a new, healthier normal that helped them work around the bad feelings, not completely getting rid of the bad feelings and being completely normal like they used to be before Hydra. That was impossible.

After a few more minutes of thinking and breathing, Jamesy nodded his head.

"'kay, bu'h can y'u order it f' m' pl'ees?" He asked, leaning towards the other for a hug.

"Of course, Jamesy," Uncle Sam hummed, wrapping his arms around the little boy. "I'm so proud of you."

With that, the two made their way back to the table, where Daddy was nervously waiting. He was probably concerned at the amount of time they were in there.

"Everything alright?" Daddy asked, earning a nod from both of them.

The three had their general, quiet conversations after their waiter came and took their order. They talked about their day, upcoming missions, and the latest baseball game in order to pass the time.

Jamesy couldn't help the blush that bloomed in his cheeks when his stomach growled rather loudly, already aware of their approaching dinner before he even saw it.

Luckily, no one paid him any mind, which made him feel a lot better. He watched as the waiter set the plate of grilled, seasoned steak in front of him, forcing him to swallow against the drool that threatened to spill from his mouth.

He could hear Bucky say something about a guy named Pavlov, and heard him and the Soldier start laughing, but he didn't understand.

Uncle Sam helped him to cut up the piece of meat into bite-sized pieces that looked nothing like human flesh, pushing the plate towards him once the pieces were all properly cut.

Jamesy smiled, taking his fork and lifting a piece of the steak into his mouth, shivering in programmed delight at the way the texture made the barely noticeable ache in his jaw feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading through this! This accidentally became a 5+1 of cannibalistic tendencies.
> 
> Coping mechanisms are not meant to make people completely 'normal' or 'fix' them. Coping mechanisms are a way to work around problems in order to forge a new, healthier way of life. Never feel bad for having healthy coping mechanisms that help to work around bad feelings or problems, even if they seem 'silly' or 'bad'.
> 
> The mentioned punching bag incident is a reference to [Let the Monster Rise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048160)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is directly connected to [Dog Teeth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23405446) and can be considered a direct sequel to that story.
> 
> Any behaviors related to DID or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency within this story are based on **personal experiences** and are not a scientific basis or professional explanation for either DID systems or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency. No two people, let alone no two systems, are exactly the same.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
